Today is Independence Day in America, July 4th. My intro to this piece will be short and sweet…….This is my homage to a piece the great NASCAR journalist Joe Whitlock wrote about this day nearly 35 years ago. I hope you give it a read and enjoy it. Happy 4th, one & all!



“O say, can you see by the dawn’s early light……”

Warm seabreezes. The crackle of a fire in the fall. The clear ringing of brand-new guitar strings. The smell of fresh-mown hay. The distant roar of thunder. Michael Jordan, Dale Earnhardt and Hank Aaron. James Taylor, Don Williams and Carole King. Maya Angelou, Langston Hughes and Robert Frost. Birds singing in a morningtime windowsill. Sun-dried clothes and bedsheets. Kittens and puppies playing in the yard. The sweet shade of a beech tree. The fragrance of jasmine, lilacs and roses in the springtime.

“What so proudly we hailed……..”

The Blue Ridge Parkway in the fall. Friday night bluegrass jams. Athens, Georgia. The smell of race fuel. The morning paper and the evening news. Flatt & Scruggs. The sound of old guitars being played. The sound of a baby cooing. The New River Gorge. Asheville, North Carolina. The view from Grandfather Mountain. The lights of New York and Chicago. The sands of Pensacola. The cheer of the crowd at a Braves home run. Kyle Busch, Chase Elliott and Kevin Harvick, duking it out on the high banks of Bristol.

“At the twilight’s last gleaming……..”

The Rocky Mountains in the wintertime. The scents of hamburgers, chicken and sunblock on the boardwalk. The Indianapolis 500. Long walks in the woods. The Golden Gate Bridge and the Gateway Arch. Fresh made molasses and apple butter. The Pacific Coast Highway and the Appalachian Trail. The beautiful silence of falling snow. Cherry wine and new moonshine. Burlington, Vermont. Distant train horns. The beauty of the Great Lakes. Faded blue jeans and perfect-fitting sneakers. Bill Monroe and Doc Watson. Jerry Clower and Paul Harvey. Dan Rather and Walter Cronkite. The smell of bacon sizzling in a pan. Glory glory to ol’ Georgia.

“Who’s broad stripes and bright stars………”

The smells of fresh-turned soil and pine trees in the air. Cape Hatteras. The sound of rain on a tin roof. Hugging the ones you love. Coming home. Fried green tomatoes and Vidalia onions. Just-ripened peaches. “I love you”. Long road trips with no destination. Whitetail deer and families of ducks. A V of geese flying south. The sound of race cars barreling around Watkins Glen. “Gentlemen, start your engines” and “Let’s play ball”. The twang of a Telecaster. Buck Owens and Glen Campbell. Richard Petty and AJ Foyt. The Allman Brothers and the Grateful Dead. The Grand Ole Opry. The Darlington Stripe and the Southern 500. The action and suspense of the World Series and the NBA Finals. The smell of tobacco hanging in an old barn. Old Orchard Beach, Maine. Lake Norman at dawn.

“Through the perilous fight………”

Those who fight for what is right and true. Fearless voices and leaders. Those with clear eyes, strong minds and steel-rod backbones. Those who are fighting for those who are too tired to fight. Those who are speaking for those without a voice. Those who will take naysayers and underminers to task, and, having finished their 40 hour workweek by Tuesday noon, and fighting through exhaustion and strained voice, will put in another 72 hours fighting for human rights or world peace or many other noble, worthy, needed causes. Those who do not have an ounce of quit in them. Those who are angels on the earth.

“O’er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming……..”

Deep, warm hugs and firm, truthful handshakes. The sound of a bottleneck slide over the strings of a dobro. Apple pie and carrot cake. The calm waters of the Pamlico Sound. Mountain sunrises and beachfront sunsets. Canoeing the New. The pineys of south Georgia. Talladega and Road America. Truist Park and Camden Yards. Distant radio stations on a summer night. The clicks, pops and white noise of vinyl records. Jacksonville, Florida. The sound of clawhammer banjo. Lazy flowing rivers. Church bells on a Sunday morning. Slow, soaking thunderstorms. Nashville, Tennessee. Fireworks on July 4th. The distant growl of a Harley and the metallic whine of a trail bike. Old dogs, children and watermelon wine.

“Through the rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air…….”

Pan-fried chicken and homemade biscuits. The crack of a bat against a well-hit baseball. Largemouth bass cracking the water’s surface. Leaves crunching beneath your feet. My dog Sam and my cat Pancho, gone but not forgotten. Lewis Grizzard’s jokes and Garrison Keillor’s stories. The sound of an F-style mandolin. Cows bellowing at daybreak. Hummingbirds congregating at a feeder. Golden retrievers. Fresh seafood. The throaty roar of race engines. Chet Atkins and Roy Clark. Ice cream on a summer day. S’mores around a campfire. Sweet tea and hand-squeezed lemonade. Twin fiddles in unison. Amazing Grace played on the bagpipes. The hustle and bustle of Atlanta. North Wilkesboro Speedway. Florida oranges and Georgia pecans. Larry Munson, God rest his soul. Verne Lundquist and Vin Scully. Sanford Stadium on a Saturday afternoon on October.

“Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there……..”

The Daytona 500. Amen Corner at the Masters. The thrill of roller coasters. Hickory Crawdads baseball. Honey bees and dragonflies. Deep-water friendships. Beckley, West Virginia. The inside smell of a brand-new car. Wood smoke in November. The taste of birthday cake. Trees in full bloom in the springtime. The Georgia Bulldogs winning the National Championship. The orchestra of cicadas. Green peppers. The feeling of sand between your toes and the tide lapping at your ankles. Top-fuel dragsters idling on the line at Thunder Valley. Martinsville hot dogs. The view from Hatteras Island lighthouse. San Francisco.

“O, say does that Star Spangled Banner yet wave………”

Lexington style barbecue and ice-cold Cheerwine. Silent Night. Street fairs. The joy of Christmas morning. Snow angels. Harrison Ford and Morgan Freeman. Kannapolis, North Carolina. The beaches of Hawaii. Andy Griffith and Don Knotts. Military color guards. The sound of your favorite person’s voice. Long, laboring freight trains. Fresh mountain air. Barbecues with best friends. People who care. Folks willing to help anyone and everyone. Turkey, dressing and candied yams on Thanksgiving. Blairsville, Georgia. Crickets chirping. The soft purr of kittens. Honesty, intelligence, exuberance, patience, support and love. Rock and roll music on an outdoor stage. Long, aimless 4-wheeler rides.

“O’er the land of the free……..”

Fresh cantaloupe. The wild horses of Corolla. The Adirondacks. Beach music. The Back Of The Dragon. Wilmington, North Carolina. The feeling when a new idea hits big. Mount Mitchell. The Winston-Salem skyline at night. The rush of 40 race cars roaring past you. Clingman’s Dome and Fontana Dam. The Cumberland River. Long naps. Fiddler’s Grove and Merlefest. The poetry of an Amtrak train pulling into the station. A warm slice of chocolate cake. The first warm day in spring. Days spent fishing. The golden reddish amber of sundown. Skies filled with a billion stars.

“And the home of the brave………”

These are just some of the things I am thankful for this day.

I hop this blog finds you well, and in the comments, tell me about what you are thankful for this day!

As always, take care, much love and may God richly bless,

-Jon